Summer ended weeks ago -
I could tell by the way
The sun one morning fell -
Like a slant of light
On a day in fall.
But heat sits heavy in September still -
Like a stubborn squatter
Refusing to move.
So I wait - for the clear high prospect
And the clean slate, for possibilities
Skipping like leaves down windy streets,
For the brisk step and earth's subtle shift
Towards a new light.
Winter is months away
And even fall is not yet here,
But the low road and the long view
Of the year are coming,
And I hold on and wait.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
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